Cocktails Anyone

a1I had a brilliant
comedian friend
back in the 1970’s and 1980’s

( I’m afraid we have
lost touch completely since )

named Woody Woodbury–

— whose favorite punchline
was:
” Booze — is the only Answer. “

Actually, when I
first started blogging,

I had stolen my
wrap-up
line from Woody
— which was:
“Surf’s UP ! “ —

and some of you
might remember
old sign off line:
” Stay Away From
The Snack Bar
” –

— which was a take off
on another one of his.

Hell,
he’s a very funny guy,bar
and he did influence
me greatly,

so I figured
he wouldn’t mind…
… all that much, anyway.

The truth be told,
“Hoy” is basically a
boiled down version
of all those other ones.

Knowing him, I bet
Woody is still performing
in Fort Lauderdale,
probably somewherebad
down on the
Galt Ocean Mile,

…. and if you should go down
US-1 South far enough there to
reach my old stompin grounds,
you need definitely to go
see him perform.

You will laugh your ass off.

And you can tell him that
“The Count” sent you.boila

(It’s a long story. )

He might buy you a drink.
He might go “HUH, WHO?”
Or he might throw you out.
Who knows.

(That’s even a longer story.)

Anyhoo…

While listening to one ofboil
Woody’s hilarious party
records this morning,

I was struck by the notion
that the whole Booze thing
was another good subject
to rip off for my blog.

After all,
booze and humor
go together like
hot sauce and condoms,

(errr–
something like that…)

and bars in general
have a long tradition
of relevant print art —
and the vintage stuff
can really be fun to look at.goodluck

We’re not just talking
about advertisements, now–

Actually, more like things
like bar napkins and such.

What?

You didn’t know
about printed bar napkins?job

Are you even
old enough to drink?

For crying out loud.

Ahem.

They don’t have to
be dirty to dirty
be interesting–

They can have
all kinds of different stuff
printed on them,
including,
of course,
the name and address
of the bar in question —

Often people will save themmermaid
as keepsakes or souvenirs…

to remember a particular place,
a particular person or persons,
or a particular situation….

Well, I think
you probably
know what I mean.

But to me,
dirty content
is almost
always better…

It strains the memory less.

So, as you might have
already figured,

today we’re featuring the
(at one time, at least)
ubiquitous snappy bar nappy.

Bars are very unique places
as you should probably know….

And featuring just
the right appurtenances
will give the placenapkin
that certain
je ne sais quoi .

You gotta have
the special
house drink
for instance..

for most of the places
I go into,zombie
that’s some
kinda play
on a Zombie.

— I dunno how
that’s telling
or appropriate,
but I guess it is.

Hey-
I’d buy you
one or two ride
— sure.

And once
those things
kicked in,
well —

Hoo boy…..

There goes
another kitten
off to the sandbox.

!!!!!! HOY !!!!!!!!!!!!

yours

Advertisements

Today’s Serial On Cereals

A New Year comin’?

Meh.

There are issues,
let’s face it.

For one,
damned if I know
how long it’s gonna
take for me to start
writing ‘2018’
instead of ‘2017’..

.. last year it took
until April.

And the gym thing–
newbies crowding all
the equipment,
dropping weights,
and generally making
a nuisance of themselves
all because of some
nebulous new years
resolution to lose
7/8 of their body fat
and get muskularized –

— that they’ll keep
just long enough to get
a shiny new membership
tag for their key-chain.

(or their neck chain. )

And every new year puts
more distance between
the time when ‘recording
artists’ actually TRIED to
sing a song,

—- instead of using
a computer auto-tuner to
modulate it for them.

I remember somebody
in the early days telling
me that technology would
make things better .

What a crock-o-shit
THAT was.

Ok,
so I’ll stop bitchin.

Ahem.

The phrase
always drink your Ovaltine
was, for some reason,
ear-worming in my
sub-conscious mind
all weekend long —

I hate that stuff, 
but I do , on occasion,
eat breakfast —
so…..

I went looking in my
kitchen pantry for
some breakfast cereal
this morning, and
after plenty of digging,
finally found a box of
Lucky Charms.

I remember those from
when I was a kid, so I
poured a bowlful out..

… and got nothing but a
couple of pieces of cereal
and a whole mess of
marshmallow ‘surprises’.

One of my kids had
apparently decided that
there weren’t enough of
those sugar bombs in the
box already, and had
added some –

(and by some,
I mean a shit-load) —

Yep, you can indeed buy
just the colored marshmallow
shapes separately…

and then add as many
as you want back to the box.

Or,
I dunno….

Just throw out the cereal
altogther and eat them
marshmallows instead.

:-O YOWCHEE. :-O

Magically delicious.

No wonder parents today
can’t keep their kids from
climbing the walls at the
local Walmart.

Anyhoo…
it got me to
thinking back
about some of
the breakfast
cereal brands that
have come and gone
in the last 50 years or so.

Talk about flash
in the pans,
most of them
didn’t survive
more than a year or two.

Though I purposely avoided the
more obvious ones like those
based on Star Wars,
The Simpsons,
or the Flintstones
characters–

— still, I think you’ll find this
assortment a pretty vacuous one
altogether.

And they’re
all gone, now…

— except that
Uncle Sam stuff
that we led off with —

And that one
wasn’t really
a cereal geared
toward kids,
if you know
what I mean.

Prunes, anyone?

!!! HOY !!!

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Machiavellian Kid’s Guide To Getting What You Want From Santa

Writing a letter to Santa
is a yearly ritual for a
lotta kids.

But-

If you’ve been a bad kid
all year who’s now
sweatin’ the whole
‘Santa knows who’s
been naughty or nice’
thing ..

…. and you’ve got
your eyes on a juicy
present stash
from him, anyway —

well, if you learn the
simple steps in the:

“Letters To Santa For
Junior Machiavellians”
system —

you can still call the shots–

— by knowing how to write
just the right kinda letter.

Yep.

It’s a matter of basic human
psychology, man.

Now, of course,
you being a
Junior Machiavellian yourself,
you understand we can’t just
GIVE you this valuable set
of instructions free of charge –

I mean,
what are you, kidding?

Whose pocket do you think
you’re picking here, kid,
anyhow?

Still, we do recognize
the need for a couple
little ‘teasers’ to show
you that our system
means business —

— once you order the
complete 10 volume set,

(only 199.99 –
and you can use
Mom’s debit card)

you’ll be amazed
at all the sly,
slippery methods
you will have at
your disposal.

Yes, you CAN get that
real-live Sherman tank
you’ve always wanted –
(ammunition not included) –

— utterly crush
your enemies ,
while amazing
your friends.

Nobody will pick
you last
for dodge ball again.

Here’s just a few
of the tips
you’ll get in this
valuable 10 volume set:

Tip # 79 :

When you write to Santa,
be sure you express your
utter disdain and unbelief
for him and all he stands for
in no uncertain terms —

— a few choice insults
will always help
(see Tip # 12 ) 

This will , in turn,
make him want to
please YOU and
buy your goodwill through
expensive gifts and goodies-

— instead of you pleasing
him through good works,
grades, and behavior.

Another key technique-
Tip #494:

Always point out
the bad behavior
of others, while
remembering
to downplay your own.

The fact that you’re even
clueing the fat geeze with
the sack in on the hot
skinny, proves that
you’re well deserving of
some big honking presents
for your trouble.

Another helpful idea is to
use positive reinforcement —

Tip #13204:

–talk to Santa about all the
possible benefits of his
ponying up to your demands.

Sort of a
‘ bring presents now,
and I’ll be good later ‘ plan.

But don’t be afraid to use
threats to get
what you want….

Tip # 88,262:

Be sure to couch
those threats with cute
mis-spellings, bad art
and lousy grammar —

— so that no one
in authority will
take you serious.

Only you and Santa
will know just how much
you fucking mean business.

Postal authorities can be
rather difficult, otherwise.

SO,

Avoid disappointment –
and ORDER NOW !

.

.

Reining-In Horsepower For Christmas

As I was thinking about
how to approach this week’s
Saturday Car post, I got
to wondering what kinda car
Santa would have if he didn’t
have the advantages of
reindeer-provided horse-power.

And exactly what is the
conversion rate from
‘RP’ to ‘HP’,
for that matter ?

The Canadians and Scandinavians
will tell you that a reindeer
has about twice the pulling
power of the average horse
(which is theoretically
considered to be “1 HP” ) –
– and we’d still need to
consider traction, torque
and wheel slip when
getting back to car terms.

Of course, if we’re talking
about Caribou versus Clydesdale, who knows
just how that’d turn out.

Still, the below-average Yugo
should still beat em both.

Just don’t tell them
reindeers that, though —

they’ve got a pretty
bad temper, apparently.

How their temperament
would improve horsepower
ratings is also anyone’s guess.

But you gotta assume extra
rutting hormones will certainly
convert to higher power to
the ground.

And that brings up a
supplemental problem
when dealing with this
whole issue —

Since reindeer,
at least the ones Santa
employs, are dealing more
with air speed
than ground speed.

In other words-
Thrust
(always a good thing)
oh,
and of course,
Lift — .
(also very helpful)

I’m not really sure
that galloping motion
you always see them
making with their hooves
while they’re flying
develops any real thrust
at all.

And since the average reindeer
weighs 350 pounds —
lift might be something
very tricky to achieve
considering the
non-aerodynamic shapes
in question.

You add Santa, a sleigh,
a shitload of presents,
and a heavy thermos of
mocha Java
( his favorite )
and you might
as well ask
an Abrams Tank
to take wing.

Wow,
this is suddenly getting
very, very complex indeed.

Ahem.

Getting back to the car post
for just a mo, tho —

Here’s a mildly interesting
and lesser known trivia
question for you –

How many cars were
actually named
after Santa’s reindeers ?

(uhh– don’t take the
‘named after’ thing
too seriously)

Well….

1: The original 1974
Volkswagen ‘Passat’
was called the ‘Dasher ‘
in the U.S.

.

2: Ford/Lincoln-Mercury
made the ‘Comet’
between 1960 and 1977.

.

3: Between 1986 and 1989, the
‘Vixen’ , an American R-V
made in Pontiac, Michigan
and powered by a BMW 2.4
liter in-line 6 cylinder turbo
charged diesel engine–
which is to be best
remembered for it’s
spaciousness despite having an
extremely low center of gravity.

.

4: In 1909, Benz and Cie
of Mannheim, Germany
created the ‘Blitzen Benz ‘ —
which broke the world land
speed record in 1911 at Daytona
– with an impressive 141 miles
per hour.

.

And in the new remake of National Lampoon’s
“Vacation”, the producers have created
a new fictional automotive legend capable
of shaming both the Yugo and the Family
Truckster —

— an Albanian made
minivan called a
‘Tartan Prancer’ .

So… ,
not counting the
movie one, and
granting only a
generous half a point
for the RV —
the answer is:
3 and a half. 

.

Oh, you say you
wanna check me?

Ok-
There was:

Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet,
Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen .

You find a car manufacturer
making a Renault Rudolph
or a Diahatsu Dancer and I’ll
concede defeat.

Otherwise,
!!!!!! HOY !!!!!!!!!

.

.

 

Disappointments And Excuses

yeast

Disappointment.

Life’s full of opportunities
to experience it
in one form
or another.

Sometimes it’s got
to do with having
unreasonable
expectations…..

And,
sometimes
it’s got to do
with having anyza
expectations at all.

It could be as simple as
waiting your whole life
for your ‘special day’,
and having the thing
ruined by a
combination of:

a class 4 hurricane,

a heroin addict
for a future mother-in-law,chilly

an event site with
19th century plumbing,

a cake base made
primarily out of pudding,

a dinner put together
by an infinite number
of monkeys wearing chef coats,

a totally insignificant
significant other,

and an invitation list that
would ruin any party,
but especially this one.feelings

Man,
I feel you.

And if it’s any consolation,
I can explain to you exactly
why that happened to you.

It’s human nature.

Cause
people are assholes. parisi

Most people, anyway-

You and me aren’t, of course.

( Actually, I’m not all that
sure about me, but,
we’ll carry on ……. )

They’ll ruin anything
you let em near.

That weather guy who
predicted “Sunny and Warm” disap
only the day before —

That dope head who
thought she’d better go on
and double her dose
to ‘loosen up’  —

The guy who told you that
the site could seat 400
when he actually meant
midget frogs who wouldn’twakey
need chairs or tables, or bathrooms —

The expert cake baker who didn’t know you couldn’t
make a wedding cake out
of nothing but FroYo —

The kitchen staff who
obviously got
their cooking degrees somewhere where basic sanitation and culinary
requirements here are only
suggestions and considered
pretty ridiculous ones at that —

The bridegroom who
has the manners and vocabulary
of a 4 year old and all the charm
of a dead rat —

And a group of peopledi
I wouldn’t ever want
to put together
for anything but a firing squad.

Oh, Missus Organist,
would you please play
that Mendelssohn
piece out of key again,
pretty please?

Aughhhhh.

Didn’t they say
they would have
an open bar in
here somewhere?


empty

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

Help! Santa Got Me

I’ve got nothing
against Santa, man.

When you really
get down and think
about it…..

the whole buzz
on the street about him
having a ‘thing’ for
reindeer —

and his rather peculiar way
of breaking into people’s
houses in the middle of the
night —

not to mention that thing
you saw Mama doing to
Santa under the mistletoe
that night —

doesn’t over-ride the
most important aspect
of the holiday —

— getting lots of
presents.

Hey,
I heard the reindeer like it,
and it’s worth a glass of milk
and a crummy cookie or two,
ain’t it ?

But truthfully, if there’s
one holiday job that there
ain’t enough money in the
world to pay me to do –

It’s the job of
department store Santa.

Sure, I know
what you’ve heard–
that they’re really all
Santa’s helpers
from the North Pole.

But, that’s
just bullshit.

Yes, not only are
those guys imposters —

but they’re actually
miserably paid temporary
workers in ill fitting costumes…

— who probably don’t even
get enough health insurance
to protect them from
catching heaven-knows-what
from those disease-carrying
screeching rugrats that strange
people keep shoving onto
their laps for a lousy
photo opp.

(I wonder if the real Santa
knows about all this….. )

I’m not that crazy about
kids, anyway…..

I love my own,
but other people’s
— I can definitely do without.

And having to go to work
day after day, knowing
that one or more of those
little bastards will be
sitting on my lap while
they scream bloody murder
in my ear, piss their (and
thus, mine) pants and try
to pull off the cotton wool
glued to my face ?

Fuck that.

It’s amazing you don’t hear
of more about guys doing
that job going ape-shit
postal at the Outlet or
the Fashion Square,
ya know ?

Man, you talk about
sainthood —
those guys deserve it.

Even if they are
impostors
and all.

!!! HOY !!!

.